KIlling Fields of Innocence
by Portia6
Summary: A Broken Saints fic. Hassan makes his first kill at the tender age of 15 and a half....


VO HASSAN: Perhaps some day, we too will taste the violence we practice.   
  
Setting: Al Abraq desert camp zone, 1991   
  
TWO MEN STAND IN A WIDE, TRACKLIKE FIELD SURROUNDED BYA LARGE GROUP OF SOLDIERS. OVERHEAD, GREY CLOUDS LINGER IN THE SKY, CASTING A MORBID SHADOW ON THE SOLDIER KNEELING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CIRCLE IN FRONT OF THE TWO MEN.   
  
MAN 1: I have to admit, Commandore, that his acute way of stalking is beneficial. Perhaps we should waive the sentence and...   
  
HE LIFTS UP A BESEECHING HAND TOWARDS THE PRISONER, WHO HAS HIS FACE TO THE GROUND.   
  
Man 2: If he hadn't nearly beat one of our own to death, then MAYBE I would. But you forget Colonel, that the enemy are simply flea bitten dogs who will bite you with no remorse and then look upon you with widened eyes filled with fear. Good thing to just let the poor thing die in the first place.   
  
MAN 1 SIGHS   
  
Man 1: I see and understand...well, you cannot expect me to do it.   
  
Man 2: *coolly* I can not force you to break your battle moral, Colonel. However, if one of your men can do it, then the product will come quick and we can avoid this rain that threatens us as of now.   
  
MAN 1 TURNS TO LOOK AT THE LARGE GROUP OF SOLDIERS, HIS EYES RUNNING OVER EVERY FACE AS HE DECIDES   
  
AMONGST THE GROUP, ONE STIRS AND SINKS TO THE GROUND   
  
ORAN: *harshly whispers* Hassan, the trick is to NOT bring attention to yourself.   
  
HASSAN: *glares* And to be not seen is to not be chosen. Your point?   
  
ORAN SHAKES HIS HEAD AND IS ABOUT TO SPEAK AGAIN WHEN...   
  
MAN 1: Lieutenant Hassan Tahir, if you will please get up from your...*narrows his eyes* crouch, then perhaps then you could do a favor for us.   
  
HASSAN HISSES UNDER HIS BREATH   
  
HASSAN: Shit!   
  
MAN 1: What was that, Lieutenant?   
  
HASSAN: Yes sir.   
  
HASSAN GRUDGINGLY GETS UP, WITH ORAN CASTING A SYMPATHETIC LOOK HIS WAY. HE TURNS TO GIVE HIS FRIEND A STEADY GAZE, ONE FULL OF MINGLED FEAR AND RELUCTANT EXCITEMENT.   
  
HASSAN WALKS THROUGH THE PARTING CIRCLE, DARTING NERVOUS GLANCES TOWARDS THE SNICKERS AND GUFFAWS OF DISBELIEF FROM THE OTHER SOLIDERS. FINALLY, HE REACHES MAN 1 AND STARES OVER AT THE PRISONER   
  
HASSAN:Sir?   
  
MAN 1: *smiles bitterly* How old are you, Lieuteant Tahir?   
  
HASSAN: *glances over at Oran and turns back* 15, almost 16 Sir.   
  
MAN 1: Have you gone onto the battlefield yet?   
  
HASSAN: In training exercises, yes.   
  
MAN 1:*takes out his gun* What is this? *tosses it to Hassan, who catches it*   
  
HASSAN: *eyes widen, and stares down at the gun, his breathing coming faster and ragged*   
  
MAN 1: *impatiently* What is it, Lieutenant?   
  
HASSAN: *quietly* A Desert Eagle .50, Sir.   
  
MAN 1: *smiles* Good, Lieutenant. Very good in fact. *pauses, then continues with a soft convincing undertone in his voice* I can tell already you're the type to obey orders when given, and know when to give them when needed. That gun you hold fits perfectly with your hand, and you know what it contains to bring your enemy to their knees. Do you know how to use it?   
  
HASSAN: *trembling, his voice wavering* Ye, yes....   
  
MAN 1: Surely, you have family?   
  
HASSAN:*nods, biting his lip*   
  
MAN 1: *waves his hand* And?   
  
HASSAN: A...father...a mother....two sisters.   
  
MAN 1: Younger or older?   
  
HASSAN: Younger...   
  
MAN 1: And have they suffered in this plague of death?   
  
HASSAN: *weakly* Yes.   
  
MAN 1: Do you know what made them cry, made them starve, made them suffer as the innocents they are? What denied them of the needs they should rightfully have?   
  
HASSAN: *looks like he's about to faint* Yes...   
  
MAN 1: I can't hear you, Lieutenant.   
  
HASSAN: YES.   
  
MAN 1: *walks to the prisoner, grabbing him by the hair and jerking his face upwards* THIS face is the face that brought only destruction * he kicks the man onto his side, and steps on one hand, ignoring the man's cry of pain* THESE hands are soaked with your family's blood. *he kicks the man in the stomach, Hassan looking queasier and pale. Meanwhile, the crowd roar their approval out, as Oran watches in terror*   
  
MAN 1: *grabs the prisoner and throws him at Hassan's feet.* You know what to do with filthy spys, Lieutenant.*sarcastically* I suggest that you step back to not get the worst of the gore.   
  
HASSAN STARES DOWN AT THE PRISONER'S BLOODIED FACE, THE GUN HEAVY AT HIS SIDE. THE PRISONER LOOKS UP, HIS EYES BEGGING NOT TO BE KILLED, DESPERATE TO WIN SUPPORT.   
  
HASSAN: *whimpers* Sir...   
  
MAN 1: *steps over the prisoner, smacking Hassan across the face* Do your duty, Lieutenant...if you do not, then your father will have to learn of how you were dishonorably discharged. *Hassan stares in shock, blood slowly running out the corner of his mouth*   
  
HASSAN CLOSES HIS EYES AND RAISES THE GUN   
  
ORAN: Colonel! You can't do this!!   
  
MAN 1: Who says I can't, Lieutenant Nahid?   
  
ORAN: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HE'S ONLY 15!   
  
MAN 1: *yelling towards Hassan* Pull the trigger Lieutenant Tahir!   
  
HASSAN WAVERS, AND SENDS ONE LAST LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDER AT ORAN, TEARS GLITTERING IN HIS EYES   
  
Hassan: *turns back to the prisoner* This is all my fault.   
  
Oran: HASSAN! *tries to rush towards Hassan, but is held back*   
  
Hassan: *opens his eyes and stares at the prisoner, speaking calmly* God have mercy on you.   
  
*A crack is heard, mingled with the sound of thunder*   
  
THE RAIN POURS AS THE SOLDIERS CHEER, AS THE COLONEL LOOKS ON IN PRIDE AT THE TREMBLING YOUNG MAN STANDING WITH HIS HANDS UP, HYPERVENTILATING AS HE STARES AT THEM   
  
MAN 1: Excellent job, Lieutenant. Now you are fully the man we need.   
  
THE SOLDIERS ARE OBLIVIOUS TO THE YOUNG SOLDIER'S CURRENT STATE OF MIND. ORAN FINALLY GETS PAST THEM AND RUN TO HIS FRIEND, WHO CONTINUES TO STARE DOWN AT WHAT WAS ONCE A HEAD   
  
THE OTHERS MAKE THEIR WAY BACK TO THEIR TENTS, AND THE COLONEL LINGERS   
  
MAN 1: Lieutenant, are you not coming?   
  
ORAN: *coldly* He wishes to take some regret for his deeds, Colonel sir. It is true that even killers have scruples.   
  
MAN 1 GLARES AT ORAN, WHO GLARES BACK. THE TWO MEN STARE AT EACH OTHER FOR A LONG MINUTE, MAN 1 FINALLY TURNING HIS HEEL AND STOMPING AWAY THROUGH THE THICK MUD   
  
ORAN: *softly* Hassan...*places his hand on Hassan's shoulder, who in turn collapses to his knees*   
  
HASSAN: *still staring at the corpse* Did I do it right, Oran?   
  
ORAN:* slowly kneels beside Hassan, wrapping his arm around him shaking body* Yes...you did. He didn't suffer....a quick death.   
  
HASSAN: *quietly* A quick death....*reaches out to take up a handful of bloody mud, which he drops instantly. Slowly, he reaches out to take the young man's head in his hands, turning it upwards to stare into a face of death* His eyes...they are not closed. *he closes the lids on the young man's eyes, tears streaming down his face* Tell me Oran.....will we suffer the same fate as he will? Would he have done the same, if we had been in his place?   
  
ORAN: I...don't know.   
  
HASSAN: *bitterly* It's horrible to be afraid, Oran. I saw his eyes before I....killed him. They were blue, filled before with hope for survival...then as I raised the gun...he died in his soul . He knew that he was going to die, and that I am the one who had to do it. Oran...*his voice rises to just below a wail* I DIDN'T want to! I played the puppet for a madman, and my strings are still in his hands while he *motions towards the young man* has a luckier fate, where his are cut. It IS all my fault..I DIDN'T do it right!   
  
ORAN: *hoarse voiced* Hassan...   
  
HASSAN: *sobbing* I DIDN'T! I DIDN'T! *he cries into Oran's shoulder as his arm wrap around him* I DIDN'T BECAUSE I MADE HIM HURT. *Oran weeps into white hair, Hassan getting blood all over the front of his uniform. The two men are now boys in the killing field, clinging to each other as to not fall into a pit of madness.*   
  
ORAN VO: My arms are tight around my little war brother, warming him, and I feel nothing but regretful tenderness for his fragile state of mind. How life corrupts the perverse innocents so quickly, and how it strangles everything true and righteous. My poor little brother, who had taken on my pain as his own burden to make it lighter for me, who smile is the only one I receive, who craves to make me laugh so I may be temporarily happy. My little brother who allowed me into his home and treated me as if I were related by the closest of blood kin. My little brother…who kills the enemy and weeps over it. He will get over it...I know this...but for now...there is only the rain washing away the blood he had spilled, and the tears that he sheds in his remorse.   
  
I still remember the sun always warm on my back...somehow, it feels colder now.   
  
Evanescence, "Field of Innocence" 


End file.
